When Ty Reese got an unexpected job offer on Tuesday, he didn’t hesitate to accept.
Reese’s offer was to pitch for the Kansas City T-Bones, an opportunity that made him drop everything to go pitch. For Reese, who is chilling in Emporia before he moves to El Dorado to become an assistant baseball coach, dropping everything probably included dropping the remote. Easy decision.
But what if Reese had a wife and kids and a full-time job? Would he have gone? Would he have hesitated? Would he have asked Mrs. Reese for permission?
This isn’t pitching in the Majors. Independent League baseball is small paychecks, long bus rides, cheap motels and cheap promotions (not that I’m dogging on a Best Mustache or Best Mullet contest. Wacky promotions always have my full endorsement).
This got me thinking, what job would I drop everything for?
My list included KU basketball coach, NBA point guard, any job where I’d get to hang out with Scarlett Johansson and Hugh Hefner’s personal assistant. And at the top of my list: major league starting pitcher.
None of these jobs are really attainable. I doubt Lew Perkins will be looking in the sportswriter ranks for Bill Self’s successor. No matter how good I think I am at pick-up basketball, I would not have much success driving in the lane against 7-footers with biceps bigger than my waist. Scarlett Jo and I have never met, but if you’re out there Scarlett, call me. And I’m sure I lack several of the requirements Hugh is looking for in an assistant.
So that leaves major league starting pitcher, the dream job I’m sure I share with Reese — although our motivations probably differ.
If it wasn’t for the whole talent requirement, I’d apply to be a major league starting pitcher immediately.
Here’s a normal week for a starting pitcher:
Monday — show up to the park, study some film, pitch six innings, kick your feet up and watch the rest of the game. Reward your hard work after the game with a few drinks.
Tuesday — play 18 holes, go to park, go for a light jog, hang out with teammates and watch TV and then watch the game from the dugout.
Wednesday — play 18 holes, go to park, another light jog, play catch, maybe study some film, watch more TV and watch another game.
Thursday — Monday or Thursday tend to be off days. So playing 18 holes would probably be the only scheduled activity for the day.
Friday — see Wednesday. Add a bullpen session, which involves throwing maybe 50 pitches.
Saturday — see Wednesday with the additional tough task of charting pitches during the game to help prepare for Sunday.
Sunday — After a long, strenuous week, you have to pitch again. Whew, rough life.
And did I mention you make millions of dollars doing all this?
Attention all baseball general managers: I’m willing to sign for much less than the going rate.
Now, I’m probably dreaming, but I feel like I have a .001 percent shot at this one, which is exponentially more than my chances at any of my other dream jobs.
For one, a lot of Major League pitchers look like your average Joe. Greg Maddux is one of the greatest pitchers of all time. Greg Maddux looks like a nerd.
Last season I covered the Rockies for MLB.com and they had a pitcher named Josh Fogg. Fogg was about 5-foot-10, had a beer gut and looked more like a CPA than a MLB ballplayer. And Fogg pitched in the World Series!
In the movie “Rookie of the Year,” a 12-year-old pitched in the Majors. A 12-year-old playing centerfield just wouldn’t have been believable.
Heck, the Royals have thrown just about anybody out there the last few years. Remember Lima Time? Jose Lima was pitching for a team like the T-Bones before he got a shot with the Royals.
Maybe the Royals would be interested in me or Reese. I haven’t pitched since junior high, but there’s a precedent here. Red Sox pitcher Tim Wakefield was an infielder in the Pirates minor leagues system when a scout saw him playing catch with a teammate. He was throwing a knuckleball, a pitch that doesn’t spin. You don’t have to throw hard to throw a knuckleball. Wakefield has been in the Majors for 16 years.
Reese has much more prior pitching experience than Wakefield had, and Reese is also a slow-ball pitcher who fools hitters instead of overpowering them. Sure, he wasn’t planning on pitching after college, but Wakefield wasn’t even planning on pitching.
So I’ve been throwing a ball against my garage door, working on different grips and arm motions, hoping I can invent a funky pitch that will take me to the Majors. Reese might have a better chance.
Hey Reese, need a caddy?
DJrocksthemic (anonymous) says...
Nice column, fun to read!
August 5, 2008 at 7:19 a.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )